Everything Stays
by Great Raven Parade
Summary: It's been one day since their house in the Wilderness was destroyed, forcing Hilda and Johanna to move to Trolberg. Hilda doesn't seem to be taking the change very well, so Johanna offers some words of comfort.


**Author's Note: Inspired by the song 'Everything Stays' by Rebecca Sugar, and a tumblr post suggesting relating it to Hilda. Originally posted to AO3 on Feburary 4, 2019.**

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Johanna hefted the small stack of books she was carrying, shifting them to one side so that she could turn the knob and nudge the door open. She glanced around the barren bedroom but didn't see Hilda. There weren't really many places she could be. The bedframe hadn't been assembled yet, and its pieces were propped against the wall. The mattress itself sat on the ground, a few blankets thrown hastily over it in an attempt to make it look like a bed. Small piles of things that didn't have places to be put yet were scattered about the room.

They had salvaged what they could from their old house, but for the most part, only small, non-breakable things had survived. The first night in town had been a scramble to explain things to a landlord who hadn't expected them back so soon, and then a rush to get Hilda a new bed before the furniture store closed. Luckily the apartment had come with some shelving, a kitchen table, and a bed in the master bedroom. Johanna had a suspicion these things had simply been abandoned by the previous tenants, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

She set the books down by Hilda's mattress and caught sight of something propped up on the cardboard box being used as a makeshift nightstand. She picked it up, marveling not only that it had survived the crushing of their house unscathed, but that Hilda had managed to find it in the rubble.

"Uh, Mum?"

Johanna startled, dropping the framed picture she had been holding. It bounced off the nightstand box and onto a pile of Hilda's clothes. Versions of Hilda and herself from a few years ago smiled up from the safety of the wadded-up sweaters. Behind them was their old house, and in front of them the ground was partially obscured where the Woodman's finger rested in front of the lens. Glitter glue crusted the sides of the frame, spelling 'I love you mum' in sloppy but heartfelt lettering.

"Oh, hello Alfur," Johanna responded after she had taken a moment to recover. She knew Alfur was invisible, but she couldn't help but look for him. She glanced around, trying to pinpoint where the tiny voice had come from.

"Sorry to startle you," The voice said. She looked up to the shelves she and Hilda had pulled out of the closet and put up last night, so that Alfur would have somewhere safe to retreat to while they got the apartment in order. One of Hilda's scarves was sitting on the shelf, folded up in a peculiar way to turn it into a makeshift elf bed.

Johanna waved her hand and tried to laugh it off, "It's alright. I'm just not used to having anyone but Twig and Hilda and occasionally the Woodman around."

"I mean, technically we elves were also always around, though we tried keeping to ourselves best we could. Until the end there, at least…" Alfur trailed off with a tinge of guilt in his voice. He had explained several times that he had adamantly opposed the elves' loathing and attempted eviction of the humans in their valley. But Johanna got the distinct feeling that he still blamed himself for what had happened on some level.

"Oh, but we're getting off topic," Alfur continued, changing the subject, "I just wanted to tell you… I think Hilda is really upset about this whole moving thing. I've tried my best to cheer her up, but… Well, now that there's some time, maybe you should go talk to her?"

Johanna felt her heart sink in her chest. Losing their house had been hard, especially on Hilda who hadn't wanted to move to the city in the first place. The city had its virtues, but her grandfather's house out in the valley was all Hilda had ever known. The last thing Johanna had wanted for her daughter was a rough transition to this new life.

"Right," Johanna agreed, "Where is she, the bathroom?"

"Livingroom, actually-"

Johanna headed out of the room, careful to shut the door behind her. She was already rehearsing what she could say in her head. Words couldn't fix their old house, but maybe they could make this one feel at least a little bit more like home.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the small voice behind her call out, "Wait! I wanted- Oh, aaand she's gone. How am I going to get down, now?"

"Hilda, sweetie…" Johanna called as headed into the main area of the apartment. She spotted a flash of blue among the small pile of boxes in the living room. Hilda was sitting among them, where a couch might be, if they had one. Beside her, Twig was curled up in a ball, sleeping. They looked small together, sitting in the vast emptiness of the unfamiliar room.

Hilda reached down and rubbed the fur between Twig's shoulders back and forth idly. "Hi, mum," was all she said.

Johanna walked over and sat down next to Hilda. At Hilda's feet were the logs Woodman had given to them before they had left the Wilderness. Hilda reached out and rolled one under her foot, the rough bark snagging on the bottom of her sock.

"Woodman said these were for the fire in our new house… But we don't even have a fireplace here, do we?" She said quietly.

Johanna sighed, "Oh… Hilda. That's not all you're upset about, is it?"

Hilda shrugged and pulled her foot back. "We don't have a Woodman to bring us wood for our fireplace that we don't have here, either."

"Well that's… Maybe a blessing in disguise," Johanna responded as gently as she could. She saw the Woodman as more of a nuisance than anything, and a bad influence to boot. But to Hilda, who had never had anyone her age to play with out there in the valley, he had always been something like a friend.

Hilda pulled her knees to her chest and put her head down again. "I miss all of our old stuff, too. Even with the stains and scratches… It all belonged to grandad, didn't it? And then it belonged to us for a long time, too. And now… It's all gone."

"Yes... It is," Johanna answered. She was silent for a while. Hilda was right, they had years of happy memories in a place that no longer existed like it once was. There were memories attached to the nature around it, too. The woods, the streams, the hills. Even the sky and air were different out there. And even though those things still did exist, there was a distance to them. Now that they had to live in Trolberg, the Wilderness would always be just out of reach. Not to mention, the suddenness of it all had left them feeling like they hadn't gotten a proper goodbye. Even for an adult, it was hard. There were no easy answers that could fix this.

"Things change, sweetie. And sometimes that means one thing has to end so that something else has room to begin," Johanna explained, choosing her words carefully, "But just because something is gone or different now, doesn't mean it can't still matter to us. We'll always have the happy memories we made when things were the way they used to be." She laid a hand around Hilda's shoulder gently.

Hilda leaned in and glanced upwards. Johanna noticed her eyes were puffy and red from crying. No doubt that's why she had snuck out here to be alone. Hilda hated letting anyone see her cry.

"I know it's hard. I really thought of the valley as our home for all those years, too. But this is our home now. We might not have a fireplace or a couch, but I see everything I need to be at home right here in this room."

"Some logs and a box of blankets?" Hilda asked.

Johanna turned and peeked into the box behind them, "Ah! That's where those went!" She exclaimed with mock surprise. Hilda giggled. Johanna smiled and pulled her daughter into a hug "No, silly! I meant you and Twig."

Twig sat up and jumped into Hilda's lap, nuzzled Johanna's arm. It was his way of demanding to be included in the hug, too. She let him push his warm, fuzzy head between her and Hilda and they sat like that for a good several minutes, on a floor that didn't seem quite so cold and empty anymore.

Johanna finally pulled away and looked down at her daughter, "I know losing our house and moving into the city has been hard… And you don't have to be okay with it right away. But let's try looking on the bright side, shall we?" She suggested, "What are some things we _do_ have?"

"No furniture and a lot of unpacking to do," Hilda huffed, though she didn't seem quite so upset anymore.

"Well, how about this: Tomorrow, we'll go back to the store and get to pick out all new furniture," Johanna responded, "No more stinky old couch with flat cushions and deerfox tooth marks on the legs!"

"Twig was teething! He didn't know he was messing up our couch," Hilda protested. Twig looked up at her and tilted his head at the sound of his name.

Hilda paused to rub his head, then asked, "If we have to get all new stuff, does that mean I get to design my own room?"

"Of course! And you can help me pick out things for the other rooms, too."

"I think we should get the bright yellow couch we saw last night, and the biggest, softest rugs we can find! Also, I want blankets for my bed that make it look like a troll is eating me when I pull them up for the night!" Hilda said. She put her hands together and bent her fingers to look like teeth, miming a chomping motion. This was the first time Johanna had seen her really smile since they had driven away from the wreckage of their old house.

Johanna laughed, "Well… I did like that couch. I'm not sure if they'll have blankets with trolls on them, though. We'll have to see tomorrow."

"We should let Alfur help us pick some things, too! Maybe he'll have some ideas about what he can use to get around the house better," Hilda added. "By the way, where is he? I _might_ have left him stranded on the shelf in my room because I wanted to be alone…" She rubbed one arm sheepishly.

"Oh. I think he's still there. I didn't know he wanted to come down," Johanna apologized. She got up and walked over to Hilda's room, pushing the door back open. The scarf that had been folded neatly on the shelf before was jammed around one of the supports and hanging down towards the ground. It was too short by several feet, however. She wasn't sure if Alfur could safely jump that far down or not.

Hilda pushed past her mum and focused on a point somewhere along the length of scarf. From Johanna's point of view, the fabric there seemed to be pinched in at an odd angle, as if something invisible were clinging to it for dear life.

"Alfur, are you alright?" Hilda asked.

A tiny voice whimpered from the spot, "Help."


End file.
